A Time To Betray Part 18

Before I could ask where they wanted me to go, somebody knocked and opened the door to Kazem's office.

"Baradar Rahim, can I talk to you for a second?" the Guard asked.

Rahim got up and stood by the halfway-opened door, holding on to the handle with his arm twisted behind him. The two men whispered something. All I could hear was Rahim saying, "Sure, sure, I'll be there."

Rahim came back into the room and said that he had to go somewhere else immediately, as something had come up. He said that Kazem and I should go without him. I felt relieved, as going on a trip with Kazem alone would give me the opportunity to talk to him about my plan.

However, when Kazem told me where we were heading, I felt nauseous. He was taking me to a stoning.

"It is only a forty-minute drive from here." Kazem looked at his watch. "We can probably get there in time if we leave now."

I felt a surge of anger and directed all of it toward Kazem. How could he be so indifferent, so cold-blooded, to talk about this as though it were another appointment on his calendar? How could I possibly consider someone like this a friend? I was so livid that I couldn't speak to him about anything, let alone my plans, on the way there.

We arrived at the end of an unpaved, dusty road in a deserted spot in the shadow of the surrounding hills. A small crowd had gathered. Several Guards' and Komitehs' Land Cruisers were parked along the roadside. A short distance from the crowd, a couple of motorcyclists leaned against their bikes watching the event. Among the crowd were a few women in black chadors. In front of them were piles of fist-sized stones.

A young woman, wrapped in a white shroud and held on both sides by two policemen, stood in front of a hole dug especially for her. Behind them, five pasdar pasdar with machine guns watched the crowd. with machine guns watched the crowd.

A black-robed mullah announced the crime.

"Asieh Najmali, thirty-two-year-old mother of two, has been convicted of adultery."

The crowd sighed.

"Today we are here to bring justice. This is G.o.d's verdict. Asieh Najmali has committed a sin that can only be punished by the rule of Allah. She has brought shame and disgrace to Islam and her family. ..."

"Let's go up farther so we can get a better view," Kazem whispered.

"You go ahead; I can already see."

Kazem frowned at me and forced himself into the crowd. I hid behind a row of men at the end of the circle they had made around Asieh. From what I could tell, her sin was trying to feed her two children by the only means available to a woman stricken with poverty because of the policies of the Islamic government: selling herself to a man for a few thousand rials. Now she was to face the punishment decreed by fanatical mullahs in Allah's name. I spied Kazem watching the proceedings avidly and wondered how my G.o.d could be so different from his.

"Kill this adulterer!" a man in the crowd shouted.

This set off a volley of epithets. From every corner you could hear people yelling, "Binamoos ... zenakar ... kesafat," "Binamoos ... zenakar ... kesafat," calling Asieh shameful, unchaste, and an adulterer. "Kill her, kill her!" they chanted. calling Asieh shameful, unchaste, and an adulterer. "Kill her, kill her!" they chanted.

I tried to think about what Somaya might be doing for her birthday in an effort to distract myself. I closed my eyes, but when I did, I saw Somaya in the hole. This set my nerves on fire. Driven by some force I barely understood, I pushed myself through the crowd. Suddenly, I felt that I needed to witness this moment with my eyes wide open. A young woman was being slaughtered, and I had to stop hiding behind my own shadow. I had to know her pain.

Asieh was now standing in the hole. They'd covered her body from the waist down with dirt. I saw no sign of surrender in her eyes. I could tell that she knew she was not guilty. She had submitted herself to the G.o.d she believed in, the G.o.d who would look after her two innocent kids, the G.o.d who had already forgiven her.

The Guards started shoveling more dirt in the hole until they buried Asieh up to her shoulders.

The crowd hushed.

A Guards commander reached into the pile of stones. He picked up a rock and aimed it at Asieh. I bit my lip and said to myself, G.o.d, please, please put a stop to this. How can you let these savages contaminate the love you put into your creation. How can you watch and not be enraged. G.o.d, please, please put a stop to this. How can you let these savages contaminate the love you put into your creation. How can you watch and not be enraged.

The rock hit Asieh's forehead and blood ran down her pale face. She didn't plead and she didn't scream. Her G.o.d had given her strength and his love and protection.

The crowd attacked the pile of rocks. With all of the hatred they felt in them, they threw rocks at Asieh. Soon Asieh's face was veiled in blood and her head tilted to one side. She was gone. But the crowd continued to a.s.sault her.

"Die, you filthy, sinful woman. Die."

Eventually, the mullah stepped in. "Justice has been carried out. She is dead now, and G.o.d's will is satisfied."

The crowd started to scatter. Kazem was chatting with some Guards, but I could not take my eyes off Asieh. A pickup truck pulled close to the hole. A man stepped out and removed a shovel and a blanket from the bed of his truck. Then he opened the pa.s.senger door for an old woman, presumably Asieh's mother. The woman sat on the ground while the man dug out Asieh's body. She did not wail. She did not mourn. She just stared at the man digging out the bloodied body of her daughter. A mother watched her daughter stoned to death, a part of her being ripped apart, and could say nothing. She was not even able to shed a tear.

The man wrapped Asieh's body in the blanket, laid it in the bed of his truck, and drove away. Kazem and the Guards were still talking. I walked back to the car. I did not want to be a part of their conversation. I did not even care if my walking away from them insulted them. I was ready to spit on them and tell them how ashamed I was of them. Knowing that I was likely to say anything if provoked, I tapped the shirt pocket where I kept the rat poison capsules. I wanted to be sure they were with me.

The angry roar of the two cycles revving their engines in the distance caught my attention. Why in the world weren't they leaving? They'd seen what they wanted to see.

I turned around to find Kazem coming to the car. The other Guards were headed to their cars as well. Kazem put some papers in the trunk and waved good-bye as the last two Land Cruisers took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

Kazem arranged some stuff in the backseat and hopped in behind the wheel. "What's the matter with you?" he asked as he turned the key in the ignition. I was convinced that he truly had no idea.

"I am leaving the Guards," I said in a voice filled with contempt.

Kazem scowled at me. "What?"

He had never looked at me with such derision. At another time in my life, I might have shrunk from this or tried to appease his anger, but it meant nothing to me now. I was ready to tell him how disgusted I was with him, his Islam, and his G.o.d. How for all those years I'd just pretended to be his friend. How I'd used him to get revenge for Naser and my lost country.

"Did the stoning bother you? You think a sinner like her didn't deserve that punishment? She was a disgrace to our society. Women like her are filthy. They should ..."

"Kazem, stop it!" I shouted.

I thought in that moment that Somaya would never see me again. There was no way I could hold back the torrent of my feelings now. I had planned to discuss this with Kazem calmly, telling him that I wanted to leave the Guards for a while to stay with my family. I was confident he would accommodate that. But my outrage stripped me of any discretion.

"Kazem, it is not just the stoning." I shook my head. "No-not just that! It's all you do to these innocent people. All the injustices this Islamic Revolution heaps on this country. You are blind, Kazem. I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. This is not the real Islam. It is not G.o.d's will to kill and kill more."

Kazem floored the gas pedal. He maneuvered around cars and said nothing. He kept biting his lower lip and looking at the rearview mirror. I held on to my seat. People were honking at us, probably thinking that the driver had lost his mind.

I thought Kazem was doing this because he hated me for what I was saying to him. But then he adjusted his rearview mirror and said, "I think we have company."

"What?" I checked my side mirror and saw two motorcycles approaching us. "I saw these riders at the stoning."

"Are they friends of yours, Reza?" he remarked sarcastically. "You know what Javad once said to me? He told me you were not to be trusted, that you were either part of the Mujahedin or a spy for America." He shifted manically to another lane. "I slapped him in the face and told him, 'You get off Reza's back or I'll send you where you belong.'"

Another loud, long honk split the air as Kazem cut in front of an eighteen-wheeler.

"You know what else I told Javad? I told him that I'd give my eyes for you. 'If anybody, anybody among us is a pure believer and committed to this movement, it is Reza,' I said. And I would still like to believe that."

He turned his head to check the side mirror. The bikes were still behind us. He started to roll up his window and told me to do the same.

"Kazem, do you see what is happening here? Is this what you believe in? Is this the religion of love and forgiveness? Is this the same loving G.o.d you worshiped as the kid I knew? Or is this the one they want you to worship?"

A loud blast overwhelmed my words.

"Duck! Duck!" Kazem yelled as he pushed my head down and held it with his hand. We were under attack. The two bikers were shooting at the car. Kazem was zigzagging, trying to maneuver the car between lanes, and honking the horn. Then another blast shattered the back window, blowing shards of gla.s.s inside. I moved as far under the dashboard as I could and Kazem reached over to push me farther down. The car hit some b.u.mps but we kept barreling forward.

Then came more gunshots and another window broke. We hit a heavy b.u.mp. I closed my eyes. The car lurched up and came down hard. When we landed, I realized that I could no longer feel Kazem's hand on my head. The car was still moving uncontrollably. Suddenly, we came to a violent stop as we hit something. My head crashed into the glove compartment and pieces of gla.s.s showered over me.

After that, all was quiet, except for the howl of air rushing through the broken windows. I uncrossed my arms from around my head and carefully moved the gla.s.s away. I rose up and saw Kazem's head leaning to one side.

"Kazem?" I gave him a gentle push. "Kazem?"

I moved his head and saw the blood running down his neck where the a.s.sailants had shot him.

"Oh my G.o.d! Kazem!"

Smoke rose from under the smashed hood. I tried to open the door to get us out, but it was jammed. I removed my jacket and took off my shirt to wrap it around Kazem's neck.

Hesitantly, I reached for his pulse. There was none. I pressed on his wrist harder looking for a beat, moving my finger around. Nothing. I checked the pulse on his neck, but found nothing there, either.

I crumpled. How many atrocities do I have to witness? How many atrocities do I have to witness? I screamed to the G.o.d in my head. I screamed to the G.o.d in my head. How many friends and family members do I have to bury? G.o.d, I am so tired of this! I am so tired. How many friends and family members do I have to bury? G.o.d, I am so tired of this! I am so tired.

I submit myself to you, as I no longer have the strength.

I barely remember what happened in the ensuing days. Our base announced that Kazem fell victim to a Mujahedin attack. Rahim moved back to our base, telling me to take a few days off.

"Baradar Reza, you did what you could to save your brother. We all know you and Kazem were close. It must be very hard on you, as it is on all of us. We lost a great pasdar. pasdar. He was a true Muslim and now he's a martyr." He was a true Muslim and now he's a martyr."

But what Rahim did not know was that Kazem had saved my life and that I had not attempted to reciprocate. In the moments before the attack, I learned that he'd also protected me all those years. With the faith he had in me, he made it possible for a group of hard-core radicals to believe that Reza was like them, and perhaps even more dedicated than they were. He'd erased the damage Javad had caused. He'd secured for me the respect of Rahim, a shrewd commander of one of the most dangerous divisions of the Islamic Republic government. He'd saved my life more than once.

I stayed home for a few days, unsure what to feel. My relationship with Kazem had stopped being simple a long time ago. But as it turned out, he had never stopped acting as a friend. It would take me a very long time to process this and mourn it properly.

One thing was certain, though. With Kazem gone, I had no more security. If I were going to leave now, I would need Rahim's approval, and I a.s.sumed that this would be exponentially harder to attain than it would have been from Kazem. I decided that the only approach I could take was to have the evenhanded conversation I'd intended to have with Kazem before my fury overwhelmed me.

"Baradar Rahim, I know it's a very tense time with Kazem not being here, but I hope you understand that my family needs me in London, if I can have your permission. My wife is going back to school and my son has not seen me for a few years. They need me. ..."

Rahim stopped me. "Baradar Reza, I know it has been hard for you to lose Kazem. I understand. You look so miserable. I think it is a good idea that you go there for a while. Be with your family."

I couldn't believe it had gone that easily.

"Leave your phone number and address with me and I'll be in touch," Rahim continued. "I know Moheb Khan and where he lives, but if I have your number, I can call should something come up. And perhaps while staying there, I'll connect you with some good brothers and you can remain active with the Guards."

Rahim's words sent me plummeting back to earth. How was I going to navigate my way through this? I decided that I couldn't worry about it at that moment. I had his permission to leave and I'd make the most of that. I made plans to leave the country in a few weeks, though I still didn't call Somaya to tell her so. I felt that I couldn't let her know what I was doing until after my plane landed in London because until that very moment things could go horribly wrong. I had Rahim's permission, my ticket, and the voucher of my freedom, but I had learned that none of this was a guarantee in Iran anymore. I just couldn't bear the devastation it would cause her if I got her hopes up and then someone with power over me squashed those hopes.

I was so anxiety-riddled in the time leading up to my departure that I could barely sleep. And when sleep did come, soul-ripping nightmares awoke me, leaving me stunned in bed. About a week before my flight, I woke up soaked to the bone in the middle of the night. I held my chest tightly because it felt as though my heart were about to burst out of it. I ran the sheet across my face to wipe off the sweat and sat up in bed, remembering the dream I had.

I am in a desert. There is nothing around me. I am stuck in a hole from the waist down. I feel something hit my head from the back and I feel intense pain. Then something hits me in the forehead. I see blood. Then something else hits me in the back of my head.

I turn and sigh. Kazem is standing behind me in his soccer jersey. He is ten or eleven years old. He has a soccer ball in one hand and is throwing rocks at me with his other. Another rock hits me in the forehead. This comes from Naser, who is standing in front of me. He looks skinny and old. He is behind bars and throwing rocks at me from a distance.

I scream, "I don't want to be the goalie anymore!"

Khanoom Bozorg approaches me. "Reza jon, jon, you should have done your namaz before getting in that hole." you should have done your namaz before getting in that hole."

Agha Joon walks up and grabs Khanoom Bozorg's hand. "Khanoom, leave him alone. He is an adult and he knows what's right and what's wrong. He is in this hole just to be a goalkeeper."

Then Somaya comes toward me carrying a birthday cake. I try to blow out the candles from the hole, but no matter how strong I blow, I cannot do it. The fire is still there. The candles are burning and burning!

"I don't want to be the goalie anymore!" I scream again.

25.

LEAVING HOME.

MY LANDLORD WAS upset when I gave her short notice, but my offer to let her keep all of my furniture appeased her. Although I planned to be away for a long time, I packed light. I didn't want to take much. I even wished I could leave my memories behind, burying them with all of the people I loved whom I'd buried. All I wanted was a new future and for the past to hide in its own darkness. upset when I gave her short notice, but my offer to let her keep all of my furniture appeased her. Although I planned to be away for a long time, I packed light. I didn't want to take much. I even wished I could leave my memories behind, burying them with all of the people I loved whom I'd buried. All I wanted was a new future and for the past to hide in its own darkness.

Once on the plane, I closed my eyes and thought of Somaya and Omid's surprise at seeing me-how we would start the rest of our lives together and how different things were going to be. I was preoccupied with these pleasant thoughts when the plane hit air turbulence. The FASTEN SEAT BELT FASTEN SEAT BELT sign beeped and lit up. A commotion arose as the plane started to shake. sign beeped and lit up. A commotion arose as the plane started to shake.

The woman next to me started to murmur prayers. "Ey Khoda, Khodet hefzemoon kon," "Ey Khoda, Khodet hefzemoon kon," she said. she said. Oh G.o.d, please save us! Oh G.o.d, please save us! She held on to the arms of her seat and mine. The older man next to her on the aisle seat had his eyes closed as he rocked back and forth, a line of sweat traveling along the side of his pale face. She held on to the arms of her seat and mine. The older man next to her on the aisle seat had his eyes closed as he rocked back and forth, a line of sweat traveling along the side of his pale face.

The plane dropped suddenly, causing several people to cry out in alarm. The sound of babies wailing and adults shouting for salvation was all too familiar to me. But a few seconds later, the shaking subsided. With another beep, the seat belt light went off.

"Thank G.o.d," the woman next to me said as she took a deep breath. She turned her head toward my seat to look out the window and I saw tears in her eyes. "Even to leave this ruined place does not come easy."

All I could do was nod and force a smile.

She shook her head. "Thank G.o.d, I am not going back. Never!"

Before I left, I went to see Agha Joon to say good-bye. By this point he was battling Alzheimer's, but he remembered me. He asked when I was planning to return, and I just told him I'd be doing so soon. I wished I could tell him that I might not be back for a long time and that when I did return, he might not even be around, but I couldn't be that candid.

Thinking about my grandfather, thinking about how he'd helped form me and how much he meant to me, I realized that I didn't truly want to bury my past. I needed to look forward, but I should never look away from what made me who I was.

The Iran Air Boeing 747 landed smoothly at Heathrow. After the sometimes rocky ride, the pa.s.sengers applauded the pilot's gentle touchdown. I saw this as a metaphor for my future and the freedom I was about to enjoy.

I called Somaya once I got off the plane. All flight, I'd been thinking about how to explain my arrival. Ultimately, I just decided to make it as clear as possible. "Somaya jon, salam. jon, salam. Please forgive me. I know I should have called before, but I am in London." Please forgive me. I know I should have called before, but I am in London."

I paused for her reaction. All she said was "What?"

My voice was shaky. "I am catching a cab and will be there in less than an hour."

Somaya and Omid greeted me at the door. I held Omid in my arms, and all I could do was cry. Somaya looked at me in disbelief. Her expression said, "Only you would show up this way." Somaya's parents were happy to see me and we all celebrated my appearance. I knew things would be different later, when I was alone with my wife. She had every right to be angry with me for being away from her for so long and then for not telling her that I was coming to England.

In some ways, I dreaded that conversation. But Somaya never failed to come through for me. When I told her about my mom's and Kazem's deaths, she held me in her arms and let me weep till the last drop of my tears dried on her shoulder. Though I knew she could have criticized me for the way I'd handled things since she moved to England, she didn't do anything of the sort.

When I was cried out, I said to her with shaking voice, "I promise, I will never, ever leave your side again and ..."

She put a finger on my lips. "Don't, Reza. Please, I don't want you to promise anything anymore. You are here, and that means the world to Omid. For a long time, I've wanted the three of us to have a happy life. I am sure that's what you want, too. I waited for you all these years. Let's not let your promises ruin it, at least for Omid's sake."

"Do you still love me?" I said apprehensively.

She looked in my eyes and tried not to smile. "You know, Reza, I sometimes ask myself the same question." Then her eyes brightened and she said, "Yes, I still love you." Hearing this from her made me feel incredibly strong-and incredibly lucky that I'd managed to find a woman who would support me the way she did.